


Negotiations and Love Songs

by hannahrhen



Series: Ice and Dust and Light [3]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Names, Negotiations, Pillow Talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-26
Updated: 2012-05-26
Packaged: 2017-11-06 00:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/412890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahrhen/pseuds/hannahrhen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I am not your woman, Stark,” Loki growled. “I didn’t just deliver your beloved firstborn into your waiting arms. Whatever false sentiment is causing you to behave this way, let go of it immediately.” He yanked Tony’s hand away from his waist. “Understand this: I don’t actually like you.”</p><p>Tony’s eyebrows were raised during most of Loki’s admonishment, but at the end, he simply smiled and leaned close. “Doc told me the hormones might affect you this way, babe.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Negotiations and Love Songs

**Author's Note:**

> The ever-growing mpregathon continues!

The first time Tony Stark led him to bed--after--was a ridiculous affair. The other man’s persuasion had been slow and cautious, with gentle touches, grasping caresses, and looks that somehow managed to be both assessing and--if Loki had to admit it--affectionate.

Now, lying on his back in the bed, linens drawn demurely up to both their midsections, he recognized what was happening: He was being treated as the mother of Tony’s child. He was being--gods--he was being _made love to_. Disgusting. Tony’s hands slid over his abdomen almost reverently, and the kisses on his neck, just under his ear, in no way resembled the bruising consumption of their earlier pairing.

Pairings. Many. Passionate, angry, and oh so adventurous. It had been nearly two years, but he still remembered those days fondly.

Loki wasn’t expecting _this_ \--having his still-interested cock teased sweetly like a cherished pet. Stark himself was silent, gentle breaths as he clearly held back his impulse to mount and take. His repeated touches of Loki’s belly clearly were in search of something--evidence of Loki’s pregnancy, no doubt--their child’s birth. The lower half of the Iron Man’s body was prudishly tilted away from his own. Loki couldn’t even tell whether Stark was aroused or not.

When Tony’s hand slipped gently around Loki’s waist and he moved to kiss the god gently on the lips, Loki had had enough.

He reached a hand up to grip Tony’s throat, stopping his intentions. “Cease this at once.”

Tony pulled back to look at him, and the expression was infuriating. Given a name, it magically combined surprise, amusement, and, most enraging, a kind of patient tolerance. It made him want to break both of the man’s arms at the elbows.

“I am not your woman, Stark,” he growled. “I didn’t just deliver your beloved firstborn into your waiting arms. Whatever false sentiment is causing you to behave this way, let go of it immediately.” He yanked Tony’s hand away from his waist. “Understand this: _I don’t actually like you._ ”

Tony’s eyebrows were raised during most of Loki’s admonishment, but at the end, he simply smiled and leaned close. “Doc told me the hormones might affect you this way, babe.” He kissed Loki on the cheek. Gently, again. Always gently!

Infuriating.

“ARRGH!” Loki shoved him off and stood up from the bed, ignoring his flagging member as he reached for his clothes. “Damn you, Stark. I did not come here for this.”

“No, you came here to tell me about our son and linger pointedly around my living room. And then be tugged into my room for--what? A repeat of two years ago? A hard, eternal, record-smashing fuck?”

Loki had reached for his trousers, but he stopped. He aimed his most murderous expression at the other man. “YES!”

“Like I said: Hormones.” He lifted an arm. “Come back to bed, babe. Let’s talk about it.”

“You are only giving me new ideas on how to kill you slowly.”

“Baby names, then.”

A nonsequitor. “What?”

“You said you wanted to talk baby names. Come on back, babe, and we’ll talk.”

“STOP CALLING ME ‘BABE.’”

“Not gonna happen. It’s kind of a tic--one of many, all completely charming. Irresistible, I’m assured. And you are one, by the way.”

“One what?!”

“A total babe. Hot. Beautiful. Even after the baby--haven’t lost your figure at all, by the way--makes me want to spread you out and just plow--”

Loki lunged back into the bed, mattress creaking treacherously, and his hand yet again gripped Tony’s throat tightly, cutting off his words. “Do not speak of me as if I’m your field to sow, Stark!”

Gasping for the breath Loki was currently depriving him of, Tony reached up and prised the fingers, one by one, from his throat. When he finally freed himself, he relented. “Okay, okay--no plowing, no sowing, no reaping. No fertilizing--”

“Stark.”

“No cultivating?”

“STARK!”

“Okay, okay--baby names.”

Trying consciously to relax, Loki settled back with his legs folded back underneath him, watching the other man lift himself into a sitting position against the headboard. They eyed each other. Finally, Tony spoke: “How does this work? The naming?”

Loki sighed. “In Asgard it is customary for the father to give the child its name.”

“Okay, so--excuse me for being dumb, but … who is the father in this family portrait?”

“I birthed the child. You’re the father, so far as the custom is concerned.”

“So you’re the--”

“No.”

“But--”

“ _No._ Did you not hear me at the beginning?”

“Okay, well--let’s just say we both get to play Daddy here. So, we have to agree, okay?”

Loki tried not to show his relief. Imagining what the mortal would produce on his own had almost kept him from this obligation. He nodded. “That is … acceptable.”

Tony resettled the covers low on his hips. “So … What’s his last name?”

“Traditionally--”

“Oh, Daddy Numero Uno _knows_ he’s going to like this. ... Or should I call myself 'Poptimus Prime?'”

Loki ground on. “--It’s the father’s name with the appendix ‘-son.’”

A quick nod. “Yeah, got it. Like Odinson.” Tony reacted like he knew he’d said the wrong thing immediately. “--Or, if Thor had a son, it would be Thorson,” he corrected.

“Yes.” Loki’s tension relented somewhat.

“So, Tonyson?”

They both grimaced.

Tony tried again. “Starkson?”

Loki shrugged. “That was my thought, yes.”

“Starkson. Okay--gotta say--yes--I love that.” He clapped his hands together authoritatively. “Starkson!”

“Stop. Crowing.”

“Are you kidding? I get to slap my name on the child of a Norse god. That’s mythology, baby! Edith Fucking Hamilton will have to add a chapter about me--well, if she weren’t dead. Hell, you think I’m not going to _crow_ about it? Edith Fucking Hamilton!”

Loki stared at the ceiling, willing himself not to punch the other man. He took very deep breaths.

Bolstered, Tony continued cheerfully. “Okay, so, now--given name. How does that work?”

Loki's suffering knew no bounds. He huffed, “It can be whatever you like, Stark.”

“You really don’t have any preferences?”

A pause. “I didn’t say that.”

He could feel Tony watching him--see it from the corner of his own eye as he insisted on keeping his eyes turned upward. Finally, Tony said, “He gets my last name. Is there anyone from your family-- _anyone_ that you cared about? A friend, even?”

Silence.

“Give me something to work with--a favorite horse, for example, or a kickass phallic weapon like your bro--”

“Frigga.”

“Frigga? Uh, your horse?”

“My _mother._ ”

“Oh?”

“She was … kind to me. When others were not.”

“Hm. Well. ‘Frigga.’ Hmm. Let’s think about that one.” Uncharacteristically, Tony paused for actual reflection. “Okay--try this on: We have names that change based on whether they’re used for boys or girls--Antonia for Anthony, for example. Do you--is there an equivalent male name for Frigga?”

Loki turned his head and looked at Tony. He was silent for longer than comfortable, and he watched as Tony’s skin started to twitch under the observation. Finally, he turned away.

“There is no strict equivalent, but a close name is Frey.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “‘Fray?’”

“Frey.”

“Like F-R-A-Y? Fray?”

“I don’t know how you spell it in your language, you imbecile.”

The mortal’s ridiculously unpredictable reactions continued as he brightened after the insult. “Do you know what that means in English?” Loki’s silence didn’t discourage him. “Fight. Conflict. Like, a crazy situation. ‘Once more into the fray’--great movie, by the way--Liam Neeson--I’ll make you watch it later.”

Tony’s animation was interesting to watch, when Loki deigned to look over. “You like this? Naming our son after conflict?”

“I love it. What name would suit _our_ son better? I’m not naming him Howard, for God’s sake." He paused. "No. And I'm guessing 'Thor' is completely off the table.”

For once, Loki’s impulse wasn’t to beat the obnoxious man. Instead, he turned his body toward Tony, observing the still-hopeful look, reaching a hand out to touch--to stroke--Tony’s chest, beneath the glow of the arc reactor. Gently, yes. Damn it.

He met Tony’s eyes. “Fray, then. Our child, born from conflict.”

“Fray Starkson--an auspicious name for a kid who actually has a decent chance of taking over the world.” Tony laughed. “Literally.”

Loki’s palm continued its travels, sliding up over a nipple, over muscle, on to his collarbone, where he caressed the thin skin with a thumb. After a moment, Tony reached up and grasped Loki’s wrist loosely, to stop the movement.

“So, when can I--”

“Soon, Stark. Soon.”

The appraising, amused, tolerant expression finally faded, and Loki’s breath caught when Tony looked at him anew--with sweetness. And a hint of renewed desire.

“Let me do this. Have you. My way.”

“If we do this your way, we’ll be having this same conversation in another two years.”

Tony cocked his head, rubbed his own fingers over the back of Loki's hand. His words were quiet, persuasive. “Would that be so bad?”

Loki didn’t answer. Instead, he twisted his body, lying back down on the linens next to Stark. He reached a hand out, took Tony’s own, and guided it back to his waist. “Do what you must,” he spoke softly, projecting disinterest as convincingly as he could manage.

This time, when Tony leaned over to kiss his mouth, Loki let him.

**Author's Note:**

> Tried to avoid Renesmee nonsense. "Frey," Loki's proposed variant, is a nod to James Frey, who caused a kerfuffle with the scandal over the veracity of his ... *exaggerated* memoir. I think Loki would appreciate the nod to a fellow trickster!


End file.
